The Day That Isn't
by SnoOza
Summary: Leap year day. Is it really a day? Just hours made up of the leftover time of the years. A day in which anything can happen, because it's the day that isn't. Even impossible love. DracoHermione one-shot.


_Edited 3/3/04: Mistakes in grammar and tenses corrected. I apologise for having had them in the first place, my only excuse is of rushing to put it up before 29/2 ended and so not checking through properly._   
  
**Title:** The Day That Isn't   
  
**Summary:** Leap year day. Is it really a day? Just hours made up of the leftover time of the years. A day in which anything can happen, because it's the day that isn't. Even impossible love. Draco/Hermione.   
  
**Pairings:** Draco/Hermione, hints of Ron/Hermione and Draco/Pansy   
  
**Rating:** R for graphic situations   
  
**Author's Notes:** Whee, a leap year day fic! Hardly see many of them around...the poor day is so underrated, considering it only occurs once every four years. So here's my little tribute to leap year day. Hope you like it!   
  


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**The Day That Isn't **

Leap year day. Does it even really exist? It's just a day made up of the six loose hours every year, to maintain the alignment between the calendar and the seasons. It comes every four years, this day which isn't, and in its twenty four hours it weaves its magic of transience. Because it's only this one day that doesn't belong to the normalcy of our three hundred and sixty five, this one day that just IS, anything can happen.

Even impossible love.

This is the story of a day in which, yes, love was found, in which stone was traded for heart, and innocence was kissed a contrite farewell; and the ending of the day covered the sinful traces of a day that wasn't and made everything the same again.

Hark! Do you hear now, as the world slips into the twenty ninth of February, and the air savours with possibility, the sound of the library door opening? Why, it's Hermione Granger! She treads on rubber soles through the academic desertion, the cacophony of silence reverberating irreverently in her ears, heading for a bookshelf second on the left, round a right bend.

Only, she's not there first.

"You!" she gasps in genuine shock, stepping back so that her lantern swings and gruesome monsters splay crazily against the bookshelves.

"Granger?!" In the dim glow from his lighted wand, his features seem darker than normal, but she can recognise him. It's Draco Malfoy, the only student Hermione really detests in Hogwarts. The scene is set, fate is ready.

"What are you doing here?" Draco sounds angry. He snaps shut the book he was reading and stows it quickly on the bookshelf behind him. He glances nervously at her and pushes the book further back. It hits another book with a muffled thump and Draco starts. He mutters something and the light on his wand extinguished, so that now she can only see the vague features of his face.

Hermione is suspicious now that the surprise has worn off and she moves forward cautiously, moving her lantern so Draco's face is in view again.

"What are you reading?" She moves her hand discreetly to her pocket, fingers fidgeting for the security of her wand.

Draco sees and he launches himself at her. She guessed he might do that and jumps away, the distorted creatures rearing on the bookshelves again. Draco almost crashes into a bookshelf and hits the floor on his palms and knees, a hiss of pain brushing past his dignity.

"Are you alright?" She hadn't expected him to fall so spectacularly. Who was the one who had told her all Malfoys were like cats?

Malfoy flips himself over into a sitting position.

"You move pretty fast for someone who doesn't play Quidditch," he grumbles, looking petulant.

Hermione almost smiles. Does he think Muggles have no sports? She puts her lantern on a bookshelf and extends an arm to help him up. He takes itand pulls.

Her shriek of surprise comes more freely than his did, echoing thinly into the reproving silence as she falls over his lap. She scrambles to sit up and finds Draco pointing her wand at her, smirking. He removed it from her pocket when she fell.

Hermione returns the smirk, raising her own arm. She's holding Draco's wand; she snatched it from the floor where it rolled after Draco fell. Stalemate. Draco curses, but Hermione doesn't falter. She's heard Harry and Ron do it too many times. She herself, found certain words to be oddly stress relieving.

"So, are you going to tell me what you are doing here, or are we going to be stuck here forever?"

He glares at her mutinously; says nothing.

Hermione sighs, then smiles. Fate begins his play. "Do you know what day today is?"

Seeing no harm in this question, Draco replies, "The twenty eighth."

"No longer. It's the twenty ninth. Leap year day."

"So?"

"Figuratively speaking, this day isn't even really in existence. It's just to make up for the error of six hours or so in the three hundred and sixty five days calendar. Today doesn't exist."

Draco raises his eyebrows. "And?"

"Nothing we say today leaves today."

Draco appears to mull this over. He's considering if this is the fastest way to get out of our deadlock, Hermione thinks.

He speaks. "I can trust you because?"

"Gryffindor's honour."

Draco snorts. "And you trust me because?"

"You have a secret you don't want me to reveal, don't you?"

Draco is about to deny this, but then he says, "Deal."

They look at each other expectantly.

"You go first," Hermione says after a while.

"No, no, ladies fast," Draco says wryly, mock bowing. They're sitting so close his hair falls over his lowered head and tickles her nose when he leans forward. He lifts his head again and Hermione rolls her eyes, trying not to sneeze.

"What if you go back on your word? You go first," Hermione returns.

"And how will I know you won't go back on your word?"

"Gryffindor's honour."

Draco snorts again, but he's amused at the staunchness of her words.

"And does a Slytherin's honour count for nothing?"

"Obviously not."

Draco sighs, but he believes her. "It's nothing really." He accios the book he had been reading over and tosses it to her.

Hermione stares at the book title. "_101 Wizard Cakes for Every Wizarding Occasion_," she reads. You like cooking? You know how to bake? What's your favourite brand of flour? Mine's Tracey's. Questions run through her mind, but she's too stunned. It can't be normal to ask a Malfoy these questions.

"It's for Pansy," he says grudgingly. "It's her birthday March the first. I was planning on bullying one of the house elves into baking a suitable cake, but I didn't know what type."

Hermione still can't say a thing. A Malfoy sneaking out of bed at night just to sneak cake recipes to bake for his girlfriend? _Pansy?_ Of all people? Then something clicks.

"Bullying house elves?" She takes a deep breath, ready to berate him for his callousness in treating house elves.

Draco realises his mistake. He's heard about her fixation with house elf rights in the fifth year, he didn't realise she wasn't over it.

"I meant, bribing them," he interrupts hurriedly. "There's a difference! Here the house elf stands to benefit!"

She glares at him, and he suspects she's about to lecture him on his lack of moral integrity or some other related trait the Malfoys have only vaguely heard of before.

He hits on an idea. "Don't try to change the topic! What are you doing in the library then?"

Hermione narrows her eyes at him, but she has to fulfil her end of the deal. "You wouldn't believe how similar our intentions were," she says. "I was going to bake a cake for Ron's birthday. His birthday's on the first of March too. I wonder how he'd react if he knew he shared the same birthday as Pansy."

Draco frowns. "Weasley? I highly doubt he'd appreciate the gesture," he says breezily. "He doesn't understand the feminine heart as well as I do." He can't believe Hermione would break school rules just to give some duffer a birthday cake.

Hermione scowls. "Don't speak of him like that," she says.

Draco looks interested. "You still have a crush on him? I thought you would have grown out of it already."

Hermione would deny it normally, but she remembers their pact, and Hermione nods.

"I don't know why," she sighs, wondering why she's telling her enemy this. He doesn't feel like the enemy now though, he doesn't seem to mind her so much in the dark, and he's interested in her life. "He hasn't shown any interest in me since that brief period in fourth year. I justI just remember how I felt when he _was_."

Draco nods sympathetically. "Actually, I don't, but do go on."

Hermione shoots him a frown. "What, you like playing the Agony Aunt?"

Draco is confused. "What?"

"Never mind," Hermione says. "I just never knew you were into this sort of romantic gossip."

"Today I am," Malfoy cracks a grin. "Remember? Today doesn't exist. I'm free."

Hermione looks at him. He looks honestly happy.

"I never knew you were dating Pansy," Hermione says, for lack of anything better.

"Is it that hard to guess? We went to the Yule Ball as a couple, and it's not like we haven't been seen together."

"I actually thought she was leeching herself onto you," Hermione confesses.

Draco laughs. The sound is so light it seems to tinkle. "I suppose she was, in a way. We were betrothed since five, I think, though I believe I showed my opinion on that when I smashed my birthday cake down her party dress after."

Hermione blinked.

"Come on, I was five!" Draco says defensively. "I don't really like her, but I figure I ought to try, since we are going to be married after all. She isn't really all that bad, just rather on the whiney side."

Hermione nods, a smile twitching on her lips. "Should I say congratulations to your holy matrimony in advance? Since I highly doubt I'll be going for the actual thing."

"Not unless I get a wedding gift," Draco says playfully.

"What about this?" Hermione gets up and picks a book off the shelf, throwing it to him. "For Pansy's birthday cake."

"Hey, these are some nice cake designs!" Draco exclaimed, flipping through the book.

Hermione takes another book and sits down again. "Yeah, I was planning to use one of themuntil I saw the work required."

"Hmm," Draco says, scanning the pages. "I can just coerce the - eryou've already been through the books?" he says, changing topic hurriedly.

"Yeah."

"Then why the need for running down here in the middle of the night?"

"It would have taken ages to copy down, and I can't explain to Harry and Ron why I'd be gone that long. Which reminds me, I should get to copying it now," She takes a quill and a folded parchment out of her pocket and spreads it on the floor. "What about _you_?"

Draco laughs again. Hermione is still unused to the sound. "Are you kidding me? What will it look like, a Malfoy in the _cooking_ section? If my father got wind of it I could say goodbye to living to a ripe old age and having ten grandchildren."

Hermione laughs too as she scribbles down the recipe. It should feel weird to be laughing with a Malfoy, but today is different, and today what is impossible is possible.

"Your father can't be that bad, right?" she asks jokingly, then realises she's talking about Lucius.

Draco falls silent, and Hermione feels guilty. She's brought reality into their twilight dimension.

"I'm sorry," she says, but Draco shakes his head.

"He _is_ quite bad," he says mildly. "I don't think he really sees me as anything other than an heir to the Malfoy clan, and as the Dark Lord's right-hand man. He didn't want me to be friendly to Potter, afraid the Dark Lord would be angry. ButI saw a bit of Potter in myself. Then, not now anymore."

They sit in silence for a while, then -

"I hate it," Draco says with a burst of passion, tossing his book at the floor.

Hermione thinks of hugging him, but decides it's not a good idea. Instead, she pats his arm.

"I can't pretend I understand, but I'm willing to listen," Hermione says honestly.

Draco smiles gratefully, and Hermione wonders if the glister in his eyes are tears, or just an unusual play of light from her lantern.

So he tells her everything, about his past, his present, his future, because he knows this is the only time he has anyone to tell. And she in turn tells him her secrets, because nothing today would leave this place.

Finally, only when the lantern on the bookshelf flickers and goes out, do Draco and Hermione realise that dawn is almost upon them. Hermione hurriedly copies down the rest of the recipe, while Draco pockets the book, ignoring Hermione's pursed lips.

"I'm going to return it," he says calmly.

Hermione shakes her head resignedly. "I think you should leave the library first, it's safer that way," she says, and Draco breathes a sigh of relief that she isn't going to reprimand him.

He nods and moves to go. Then he turns back. "Tonight, can we meet here again? At eleven, just one last time, before today ends."

Hermione says yes without thinking. She was wondering whether she would be able to see Draco again before he became himself.

Draco grins in relief and walks off quickly. Hermione waits for a time to go by, wondering whether she should have said no. Eleven is still today, but it's so close to tomorrow.

She hears footsteps and her breath hitches in her throat. Who's there? A breathless person swings into the partition between the bookcases. It's Draco.

"Draco, what's wrong?" Hermione asks, shocked by the anguish on his face. She walks towards him.

"Hermione" he says, leaning his face towards hers.

Hermione knows what is coming. She knows what she should do, but she closes her eyes and lets fate dose her eyelids with its fatal potion.

His lips touch hers, and she shivers, parting her mouth. Draco pulls her closer and she arches towards him, his tongue trailing honey and fire across her mouth in his desire. His fingers are cold but their touch burns through her school cloak, and Hermione kisses Draco back voraciously, drunk in the sensation of the emotions that he awakes in her. Finally, lingeringly, he lets her go, and they both stare at each other.

"That was in case you don't come tonight," he says hoarsely. "I'll understand if you don't."

Then he runs off again.

Hermione spends the daylight in a haze, replaying the night's, no, the _morning's_ events over and over, wondering what she could have done, should have done, should do. They have no class with Slytherins that day, which is good, because Hermione isn't too sure how she should react to seeing Draco. The only time they meet him is in the corridor on the way to dinner, and he ignores them. Harry and Ron are surprised at his closest act to courtesy, but Hermione understands. Today is different. Today Draco is himself. 

In the end, Hermione decides to go. She feels a responsibility to Draco. She was the one who incited him to begin the whole nonsense, she would see it through to the end.

"I was afraid you wouldn't come," Draco says. He's already waiting for her.

They stand there silently, awkwardly.

"Do youdo you want to talk about anything?" Hermione says finally. "Before today is over, I mean."

Draco shakes his head. "No, I just want to see you."

Hermione hesitates, then she steps up to him and hugs him.

"I'm sorry for what I did, Draco," Hermione whispered.

"Are you?" he asks softly, pulling away slightly so he can see her face. He pushes a stray of bushy hair from her face and Hermione tries to ignore the sudden rush of heat in the pit of her stomach. He cups her chin gently and tilts her mouth to meet his, and for the second time, Hermione does not resist.

This time Draco is slow and gentle, tracing the wet hollows of her mouth sweetly and sensually, one hand wrapped securely around her waist, the other fingering the flamboyant curls in her hair. Hermione breaks apart.

"No, I'm not, really," Hermione says. She doesn't know why, or how, but within twenty four hours Draco has come to love her and she loves him back. She knows everything about his pain and she wants to protect him from it, but she won't be able be, not after tonight. Tonight. There's still tonight to give him the love he wants.

A smirk lights his face. "Knew you couldn't resist me," he whispers, before bending his lips to meet hers again. He kisses harder this time, his roaming tongue scorching the grooves of her mouth, his fingers probing sensitively down the small of her back. Hermione feels dampness on her cheek and wonders whether it's his tears or hers. His tongue leaves her mouth and moves tantalisingly down her throat, and burying his face where the curve of her collarbone met the neck, Draco nips lightly. Hermione gives a small gasp and responds by pulling his hair reprovingly. Draco grins and begins to nibble on her right ear, sending rushing sensations of pleasure and excitement tingling through her.

Draco moves his mouth back to her lips and is shocked by the intensity of Hermione's kiss. His fingers wander till they touch the bare flesh under her jumper and Draco can feel her suck in her breath. He holds her to him with one hand, and with the other he draws slow, scintillating circles on her skin, feeling her quiver against his touch. He moves slowly up until his fingers brush her breast and as he massages them tenderly he feels her moan sensually into his mouth, tightening her grip in his hair as she pushed herself against him. Against his will, he feels himself going hard. He pulls away.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly, not wanting to look at her. He can feel himself panting, and he's ashamed.

"Draco"

"I'm sorry," he says again.

"Draco, do you want to?"

"I" Draco doesn't want to spoil it. Doesn't want to spoil her. "It's just hormones, it's nothing."

"Draco," Hermione tilts his chin so he has to look at her. "If you want to, I'm willing.

"But Hermione," Draco says. "This isn't a small thing. And I can't offer you anything after tonight."

Hermione smiles softly. "It's okay. I want it to be you."

She touches her lips to his chin and they're kissing again, with an insatiable urge that compels them to remove their clothes, and Draco to lay Hermione down on the floor, while they look into each other's eyes, and see the love that prepares them to do the next thing. Draco takes a deep breath and lets himself go into her, and the scream of ecstasy that follows falls, unchallenged on the dead wood around them.

When it's over Draco and Hermione huddle together under their cloaks, fully clothed again. It's almost twelve already, and they know there's not much time till the day is over. Hermione rests her head on Draco's shoulder and he puts an arm around her, drawing her close, savouring the peace that just her presence brought him. He remembers what brought them to the library in the first place, how long ago it seems. He wonders what it would be like if he weren't him, if he were Weasley, and the possibility, even the predictability of their love. If he were Weasley, they would bicker, they would kiss, they would marry, they would have a huge horde of children like all Weasleys seem to and even more grandchildren. It sounded like a good life.

Hermione sighs and pulls Draco's hands off hers reluctantly. It's almost midnight. She has to leave, before the first of March steals the reigns from the twenty ninth, and steals all that they have today. Today doesn't exist. Nothing today leaves today.

"I have to go," Hermione whispers, standing up.

"I know," Draco says quietly. He thought he'd told her everything he could the last time they were in the library, but now he has so many things to tell her he doesn't know where to start, or end.

"GoodbyeDraco."

The world shifts silently into the first of March, and all is as it should be.

"Whatever, Granger."

The next day, Harry, Ron and Hermione hate Malfoy, Draco hates Potter and everyone around him, and life passes on as if the twenty ninth of February never were. Except Pansy and Ron never got their intended birthday cake.

So goes the story penned on a leap year day. In the day that doesn't exist, anything can happen, and something did. Yet, the day ended and all born with it did, buried in the coffers of lost time, and our story ends.

But does it? For time passes, and the children from our story have graduated. Draco has gone underground, presumably working for Voldemort, and Hermione has become a healer at St Mungo's. As the days creep by, we're losing time again, little by little, grains of minutes escape the captivity of day, and Voldemort has been defeated, all his supporters vanquished or in Azkaban. Draco has emerged and the Daily Prophet reveals, in a shocking turn of events, that Draco was hiding low to escape You-Know-Who's vengeance after defying him, and tears drop onto the news from a pair of chocolate-brown eyes. And still yet the second hand ticks a bit slower than it should, and we move nearer towards the millennium's leap year day, in which the day that isn't might once again weave it's magic.

**-The End-**  
  


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**Author's Notes:** So, how did you like the fic? This fic is actually a huge hallmark for me because:   
- it's my first R (forgive the clumsiness - is it very obvious?) and most likely my last   
- the experimenting of present tenses and the semi-interactive omniscient narrator   
- I tried the friends-before-lovers approach (even though it didn't really have much time to develop due to the limited time span)   
- it has an optimistic ending (after the V-day fic, I couldn't bear to make another sad ending)   
So I hope it turned out ok. I know it was a bit rushed, especially in the leading up to the love-making, but I think I should explain. I was considering leaving it as just snogs, but that seemed so weak and I wanted to have a proper defining moment, a mark of their love and commitment for each other. I hope you get what I mean, I'm dashing this off quickly in school to make it in time before the end of leap year day. Anyway, I hope you liked it. Please review if you did, and review if you didn't!   
  
**& SnoOza**


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